


Lucky Day

by onlyhereforellick



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M, Post-ep 17x16, a bit of angst but also all the fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-19 03:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22804861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyhereforellick/pseuds/onlyhereforellick
Summary: This time- history wouldn’t have to be rewritten. No, this time- they’d learn from the past, and make the past proud.
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	Lucky Day

**Author's Note:**

> I’m actually really happy with this fic, I enjoyed writing this so hopefully that shows! 😂

It just didn’t sit right. The whole story of Art & Annie...it wasn’t- _fair_.

Two people who so clearly loved each other, deserved to enjoy that love for a long time...didn’t. _Why? Why was life so cruel_? Nick thought back to his own recent brush with death and shuddered. He had tried to deny the gravity of the accident, tried to play it off, but this case- this heartbreaking case had wiggled its way into his heart and taken hold. Art and Annie had loved each other despite opposition from their own family, had all but promised to spend the rest of their lives together, and to get that ripped away from them for what..a- _a coin_? That thought enraged Nick and devastated him at the same time.

And in that moment, Nick had never more wanted to rewrite history—staring at the chrysanthemums in Gibbs’ trash as he finished up the last of his paperwork—he had an urge to go back in time and give those two a happy ending. His projection of his own life into Art’s was a coincidence he tried to ignore, telling himself he wanted to fix this love story for Art- not for the Nick he kept picturing in a few years—alone, his love being ripped away far too early. Another shudder wracked his frame, and a soft voice floated from across the bullpen, “Hey, Nick,” he looked up surprised at hearing Ellie’s voice break through his reverie. “You okay?”

Nick in a knee jerk reaction deflected, “Yeah, yeah I’m good...” his eyes cast back down to the trashed flowers. He wasn’t sure why the move by Gibbs earlier hurt him so much, but it did. Carelessly tossing Annie’s favorite flowers, a symbol of loyalty and devoted love— _yes he’d looked it up, sue him_ —seemed so harsh, so disrespectful. Nick knew Gibbs had no clue, was likely “throwing away” Spencer, but to Nick it stung. Annie and Art had stayed loyal to their love until the very bitter end- _an end that didn’t have to happen_. Eyes affixed to the white, blooming mums, he corrected his earlier words, “No, no I’m not okay.”

He didn’t even look up to see Ellie’s reaction, instead he pushed away from his own desk and rounded the corner to close the space to Gibbs’. Pausing at the edge and bending down to retrieve the precious petals, Nick straightened holding the flowers that meant so much to him. He continued to stare at their delicate beauty as he expanded on his declaration, “I can’t- I can’t wrap my head around it.”

Ellie gently probed further as Nick slowly made his way to the front of her desk, “Wrap your head around what?”

Nick finally glanced up to see her expression. It was tender and open, not questioning his sanity, as if she understood his thoughts before he even voiced them. With a small shrug of his hand holding the remaining intact flowers, he answered, “This. All of it. Art and Annie- their story.”

Ellie just tilted her head slightly to the right, her signature move to get him to keep talking. It worked.

“They didn’t deserve it. They didn’t. It’s not fair, Ellie. Why didn’t they get that life? All over some stupid coin? Because a jealous brother couldn’t grow up? Why? Why is life cruel and short and fleeting? They didn’t deserve that. They loved each other so fully, against all odds- despite different backgrounds, they deserved a happy ending. A long life filled with love for each other, for future kids, for- for- forever,” Nick finished dying down from the passionate beginning to his monologue.

A small smile started to tug at the corners of Ellie’s lips. A knowing smile that conveyed a similar frustration yet had a bit of hope mixed in, maybe? Nick certainly didn’t feel like smiling right now. Before he got the chance to question it though, Ellie was rising from her seat. She came around her desk to stand close, placing a hand on the flowers and carefully prying apart his death grip that had formed along their stems. Wordlessly, she took the flowers and headed towards the back elevator- that smile still in place.

She reached out her free hand in a beckoning gesture, “You coming?”

Suddenly intrigued, the fight building in his heart dissipating every second longer he stared into her smiling eyes. Nick turned and followed her to the elevator doors. But instead of heading down to the parking lot, she took them to the roof. The doors slid open and Ellie waltzed out as if this was normal, making her way to the back corner. The little getaway they’d discovered a few months back- two lawn chairs perfectly placed for the best view of the river and skyline. She lowered herself into the far chair and patted the seat next to her while placing the diminished bouquet on the edge of the rooftop. The stark white blooms contrasting with the dark night sky, tiny twinkling lights of stars and late-night workers in their buildings across the river.

Nick took his seat next to her and finally the confusion burst free, “Why are we up here, Ellie?”

She chuckled in response, the noise a welcoming twinkle in his ears. “Listen. Do you hear that?”

_Lord, this woman was crazy_. “Hear what?” He said, Barely able to keep the scoff out of his words.

Another chuckle. “Life, Nick. Rushing by, the cars- the conversations- the chorus of the city.” Her head tilted back as her eyes slid closed. Ellie continued with her eyes still shut, “It’s terrifying and exciting, it’s sprinting and crawling, it’s ugly and beautiful. But that’s life. How we respond to the hand we were dealt is what matters.”

Nick looked on in awe, seeing her long blonde locks tumble past her shoulders and her fair skin glow in the moonlight was intoxicating. His eyes never wavered from her face as he replied, “I’ll give you that- it certainly is beautiful.” Her words sunk in, she was right in aspects- life was a constant juxtaposition. And yes, their reaction to life was important, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try and bend fate. Nick went on, “But I’d say it doesn’t always have to be a response to fate. The hero in the story may save the damsel in distress before it’s too late. Before life is beaten by death. Maybe Art and Annie’s story could have turned out differently.”

Ellie peeked her left eyelid open to steal a glance at him. A ghost of a smirk transformed her features by the second, “Oh yeah?”

Nick tore his eyes from her face as he looked out to the glorious display of light surrounding the bright symbol of devoted, flowering love on a rooftop in DC—within seconds he was transported back to a time when those lights were just stars, less city.

“Imagine it goes differently, imagine a different last few letters from Annie,” Nick dove into describing an altered timeline for the two lovers...

* * *

_“Art, what is it?” His commanding officer noticed Art staring off into space while holding a fresh letter in midair. His hands shook slightly as he continued to stare unseeing. “Hey! Earth to Art,” he tried again._

_A shake of his head to clear the crowded thoughts suddenly taking residence in his skull, Art focused in on his CO’s face. “I- I-“ he gulped nervously, “I think Annie’s being poisoned.”_

_His commanding officer’s face twisted with dread almost instantaneously. “What makes you say that? Are you sure?” Worried laced his tone, his CO knew how much Annie meant to the young petty officer._

_Art glanced down at the letter still vibrating in his hands, staring at her penmanship that had slowly faltered with time. Staring at the words that jumped out at him from his training long ago—phrases like, ‘hot flashes,’ ‘numbing feeling,’ ‘constantly parched,’ and ‘near exhaustion’—were red flags to Art. “Yeah- yeah, I’m sure. We learned in basic how to spot when a fellow officer or yourself was being poisoned.” His CO nodded at remembering the simple 30 minute training they gave the new recruits, something that typically never stuck with a man after the remaining hours upon hours of training. Art now looked up at him, frantic, “Annie’s being murdered- and I can’t save her.” His voice cracked at the end full of emotion, he was stuck halfway around the world and no way to save the woman he loved dearly. The woman he would die for in her place in a heartbeat._

_His CO began to smile- a reaction that thoroughly confused Art. “There’s a freighter leaving to get new supplies in the morning- you’re on it.”_

_Art immediately started shaking his head, “No, no I can’t leave my bro—“_

_“You are on it.” It wasn’t a suggestion, “That’s an order, officer.” His CO left no room for negotiation in his tone._

_Art nodded and mumbled a quick saying of gratitude before running off to his menial tent to collect his few personal items. Leaving at zero dark thirty would be hell, but if it meant saving his Annie, he’d leave without compliant._

* * *

Ellie cleared her throat, catching Nick’s attention from his story, “Yeah, but that would never happen, Nick. The hero doesn’t always save the damsel. Sometimes they’re too far gone, past the brink of saving.” There was a hidden emotion in her voice that Nick couldn’t quite put his finger on. He went on despite her interruption...

* * *

_Landing in a private government airfield, Art practically sprinted off the cargo plane. If her letters were any indication, Annie didn’t have a lot of time left- he had to get to her before it was too late._

_While on the long, choppy flight home, he’d had a lot of time to think over Annie’s sickness. The doctors claimed it was incurable thyroid disease, Art knew better. She was being slowly poisoned, masked to look like thyroid issues. He’d thought to how this could have happened- it was slow, deliberate, even while she was hospitalized. His conclusion was someone close to her, someone that would have constant access to her side, to things she touched, ate, drank. It was but a small pool of suspects—her family. Surely not Aunt Bertha- she seemed to be on their side, she knew about their secret relationship that continued despite Annie’s fathers disapproval. That left her father and her brother. Even though dear old Dad seemed to be the easy choice, Spencer always struck him as a spineless roach. In her letters Annie mentioned being written in as inheriting the family business, she didn’t quite say Spencer wasn’t pleased- but she didn’t have to. Art knew how he’d react to that news, how it would fester and tear the man apart from the inside out until he reacted. It had to be him. Art just knew it._

_Arriving at the hospital, Art wasn’t sure his strategy but he knew he needed to see Annie. See the face of the woman he desperately wanted forever with, even if it was frail in her sickness._

_Moments before he stepped inside her hospital room, a firm hand landed on his shoulder. Swinging around in surprise, he didn’t expect to see the face of the man who despised him._

_“Mr. Downing,” was all he offered._

_“Please, call me Carter, Art.” The older man responded almost wearily. It seemed seeing his only daughter slowly wither away was his undoing._

_“Carter,” he repeated, still offering nothing._

_“You came back for her?” He asked, even though it seemed he knew the reason why._

_“Of course I did, sir.” Art couldn’t keep the military-engrained tone from his voice._

_Annie’s father simply nodded, and his head fell as his hand went to rustle with something in his jacket pocket. Capturing whatever he went searching for, he lifted his hand out towards Art._

_Instinctively, Art raised his own hand, palm up to collect the item. When a solitaire diamond in a cathedral setting on a gold band bounced into his warm hand, Art stopped breathing._

_“You love her.” It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t demeaning._

_“Very much, sir.” He affirmed after a quick swallow._

_“Good. She needs you right now, she’s not well.” His eyes drifted past his shoulder to look at Annie sleeping soundly in the white hospital bed before coming back to Art. “Take care of her son.” That hand went back to clasp his shoulder and before Art knew it, he was enveloped in a warm embrace from a man he thought hated him._

_Once he was released, Art slowly turned, ring in hand, to make his way into the room. At the sound of the door unlatching, Annie stirred in bed. Her weary eyes blinked open groggily, as if her eyelids felt like sandpaper. When they finally focused on Art’s growing form moving_ _closer to her side, they widened. Her gravelly voice abraded his heart, “Art!”_

_Holding back tears at hearing her voice again, something he never thought would happen, Art knelt by her side and grasped her cold hands and simply stated, “Hey love.”_

_“What are you doing here? I thought-“ she coughed briefly._

_He placed his free hand atop her arm folded across her stomach. “I was ordered to come back- to see you, Annie.”_

_The radiant smile that lit up her face was worth it. Was worth every second of pain he’d gone through being overseas, every second of worry for her health, every second of grappling with himself over not deserving her love._

_She whispered roughly as a tear slid down her pale cheek, “I love you, Art.”_

_He rose slightly from his kneeling position to kiss her cheek, capturing the tear in its place. His lips lingered and against her cold, but smooth skin, he whispered right back, “I love you too, Annie. Always.”_

_A content sigh escaped her lips and she released a chuckle. The sound hitting his ears was like a chorus from the heavens. “Finally,” she breathed out, “I can stop writing letters. My handwriting is getting terrible,” she finished with a laugh._

_Despite the dark humor in her statement, Art couldn’t help but laugh with her. There’d be time to tell her about Spencer, but now- now it was time to enjoy her presence, drink in her love and her touch. Time he thought he’d never have back, but occasionally- he thought, occasionally, when it’s your lucky day- you can bend fate._

* * *

Ellie’s loud, “A-ha!” broke Nick out of his happy, new rendition of Art and Annie’s story. “And since she didn’t have to write the letters and lick stamps anymore, she would’ve finally gotten better, right?”

A smile formed on his face as he turned back to look at Ellie’s proud face. “Exactly,” Nick confirmed. “And I’m sure Art would’ve proved his suspicions. He had game, remember?”

Ellie let a loud laugh ring out into the dark night. “Right, he had game. And,” she went on with a raised eyebrow, almost challenging Nick, “He wasn’t afraid to use that game.”

Nick raised a hand to his chest in mock offense, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Ellie turned her upper torso to face Nick before going on, “In your story- Art had game, sure. As you said, he ‘bent fate,’ you know- almost like he wasn’t afraid to do so. The second things got real for Art, that he realized life can be ripped away from you, he did something to change it. He reacted to the ugly part of life and made it beautiful. He used his so-called ‘game’ to get what he wanted most- true love.” Ellie’s animated expression deflated in front of his eyes as she counter argued herself, “But, as we saw that doesn’t always happen. Life isn’t usually the hero-saves-the-damsel story, is it?”

Nick looked over the woman _he_ loved and knew it was time to live out his own words. Live out the life _they_ deserved- make Art and Annie proud. Reaching across his armrest to gently intertwine his fingers with Ellie’s, he noted the moment she jumped at his touch. Her eyes had wandered off to the skyline again, but now they snapped back to his face. Nick whispered despite the quiet that surrounded them alone on the rooftop, “It can be, Ellie. We can make it beautiful.”

Her eyes flicked down to their hands, back to his face, and then out to the roof’s edge- staring at the flowers when she replied breathily, “What are you saying, Nick?” It was like she couldn’t look at him in fear of getting her hopes up.

Voice stronger this time he squeezed her hand and explained, “We can have the story we deserve. We can have the exciting, beautiful, devoted love story, Ellie. We can have the story Art and Annie should have had.” He ended and held his breath.

Ellie gradually shifted her gaze back to his, and what he saw there clutched his heart like an iron fist. Her eyes misted over with unshed tears, pupils dilated with a hint of curve to her lips. Three rapid blinks and a tear escaped, but not before Ellie answered him, echoing his earlier thought, “Let’s make them proud, Nick.”

His heart jumped free and soared in the night sky- past the dozens of city lights, past the inky black river, past the fear that had gripped him the moment he knew he loved her. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and off his seat, dropping to his knees in front of her—just like Art at Annie’s hospital bed in his story. He dipped his head to lightly press his lips to her cheek, wiping that rogue tear away. He pulled back less than an inch to whisper against her golden skin, “I love you, Ellie.”

Her hand reached to the underside of his chin and with a gentle fingertip she directed his mouth to hover over hers. Looking deep into her eyes, Nick heard the words he wasn’t sure he’d ever hear her say. “I love you too, Nick. Always.”

He closed the breath of space in an instant. The kiss they both deserved a reminder of the love that life can bring.

_Far above, standing in each other’s arms, a man happily reunited with his love, whispered in her ear, “We did that, Annie. Our pain was worth it.” Her noise of agreement- music to his ears after the decades he waited to hear it._

This time- history wouldn’t have to be rewritten. No, this time- they’d learn from the past, and make the past proud.


End file.
